"Well, Joséphine?" asked M. Deviolaine.
"Well, monsieur, it is all over. Madame has been delivered."
"Satisfactorily?"
"Satisfactorily."
"What is it?"
"A girl."
M. Deviolaine made a most significant groan.
"Oh! but," Joséphine made haste to add, "so pretty—as beautiful as the Cupids. She is the very image of Monsieur."
"In that case," growled M. Deviolaine, "she won't marry easily: the very image of me, so much the worse! so much the worse, good Heaven! So much the worse! I shall never have another!"